Best Birthday Party | Black Plague Division: January 12, 2013, 32nd birthday
Friend, urban farmer, and living inspiration Lawrence Taylor Westler (aka Street Eagle) (aka The Dangerous Brooklyn Dandy) came to visit my humble apartment on Hawkins Street in the waning days of my residence in New England. He was preceded (coincidentally??) by the grim, skulking spectre of Death (aka Dragon Plague) (aka a really, really bad head cold). I enjoyed spending time with an old friend and, knowing I would soon be leaving the northeast for the foreseeable future, cherished our brief time together. I also blew my nose into a number of things that weren't tissues. Also, it was my birthday and Larry didn't know that until it was actually my birthday. And I slept most of the time because death cannot find you in sleep, or so the legends tell. But it was awesome to see my friend, and even more awesome to have not impregnated him with the mutated dinosaur bacteria that was using my body as a primordial crock pot.
Best Crack Barrel | Walking in Traffic Division: Hattiesburg, MI
My dad drove the rental truck. I drove the Dodge Neon. Together we made our way from Providence, RI to Houston, TX. Occasionally we stopped to poop and eat. (Not eat poop. That'd be weird.) Hattiesburg is an oddly busy little strip, loaded down with increasingly cheap, increasingly dire hotels and motels. They also had a Cracker Barrel. There was a sign for the Cracker Barrel. We could see it from the hotel. The GPS on my phone said it was close. But then, the GPS on my phone wanted to walk alongside the highway to get there, so my GPS might just be an asshole. Anyway we walked along busy roadways, through gravel driveways, and across swampy ditches. And couldn't find Cracker Barrel. Then we got in the car and drove there. This story seemed more interesting in my head before I started typing it.
Best Fatal Car Accident | Fatal Only for My Car Division: My car vs. a Chevy Avalanche
I started writing a blog post that discussed this, but gave up. This is all I wrote:
"We have kids in the car, you know?"
She wasn't trying to twist an invisible knife when she said it the first time, or the second, or the third. I think she was just offering it as an explanation as to why they were slightly agitated. Which was unnecessary, because I'd hit their car with my own and people are generally agitated when that happens. It's pretty much customary.
Truthfully though, if the sizzling, snaggle-toothed remains of my 2003 Dodge Neon weren't resting in a crooked heap directly behind the silver Avalanche, you'd be hard-pressed to know why the lady and her husband were milling around the intersection while their unseen children pressed together in the backseat of the still-running truck. My ten year old sedan looked like it'd been sucker punched by Superman. The Avalanche looked mildly constipated, but otherwise unperturbed.
The husband didn't say much. Whether that was from anger or general disinterest in verbal communication, I couldn't say. His wife was sympathetic and understanding. She just felt a need to remind me every 60 seconds that her children were in the car.
"Are they okay?" I asked, shell-shocked and horrified in that special way that only occurs when you've endangered the lives of others through sheer human incompetence.
"They're fine," she would say. "But they're in the car, you know?"
Best Television Moment | I'm Literally Two and a Half Years Behind on Every Show Division: The Walking Dead
*Spoilers*
SOPHIA WAS IN THE BARN THE WHOLE TIME. FUCK ME.
Worst Television Moment | Seriously, I'm Way the Fuck Behind Division: Breaking Bad
FUCK THIS EPISODE WITH THE FLY IN THE LAB. I CAN'T GET PAST THIS EPISODE. IT'S MAKING ME WANT TO HURT MYSELF. CAN I JUST SKIP THIS ONE, PLEASE?
Best Conference | Only One I Went to Division: Confab
I also started writing about this. Then quit. Because quitting is way easy.
The closest I'd been to Minnesota previously was in 2009, when my Dodge Neon broke down in mid-summer. I had to get from Buffalo to Maine for a family reunion, so I rented a car. The car was a Hyundai Sonata with Minnesota plates. I named it the Minnesota Strangler, because that seemed like a thing I should do. My mom rode in the Strangler with me from Ellsworth to the camp grounds so we could catch up and also because she had probably forgotten what a shitty driver I am. It rained and I played an album by the band Beirut. My mother responded to Zach Condon's operatic caberet with an explosion of laughter, followed by a firmly incredulous "what the hell is this?" She then started in with the faux-opera singing she sometimes does where she sort of sounds like a performer on the Lawrence Welk Show slowly drowning in vegetable oil.
We got to the camp grounds and no one was strangled.
Real Minnesota was actually pretty nice. That may have been a trick of good timing, since I got there in early June. It almost certainly elevated itself in comparison to Houston by simply not being a raging, jalapeno-scented sweatbox. But even beyond that, there was something oddly comforting about Minneapolis. I think it was all the bike helmets.
The hotel was intimidatingly nice and did a good job maintaining our national tradition of expensive hotels that don't give you anything for free. "Standard" internet (aka - internet for chumps and people who brought their own porn) cost $10 a day, which would work out to about $300 a month. Someone thoughtfully left complimentary $3 bottles of water in my room along with a menu for $15 room service pancakes in case I decided to totally give up on interacting with the outside world.
Down on the first floor they had an enormous sitting area - a slightly lowered section with a granite fireplace, neutral carpeting, enormous cords of wood stacked into the wall and a collection of Euro-sleek furniture that looked like it was designed by Ikea's pretentious German cousin, Dieter. It was fun. You could take your laptop, sit on an awkward, backless foam couch and watch agitated people drag their luggage through the revolving doors while their bewildered children struggled to keep up. I guess that's the only thing you get for free.
Best First Date | Caffeine Stroke Division: July 20, 2013
I wrote to Sarikka because she 1) had a dog, 2) had a Robert Heinlein quote in her profile, and 3) was cute. In our first communication I immediately established that I 1) also had a dog, 2) knew who Robert Heinlein was, and 3) was fucking adorable.
We met at Blacksmith in Montrose, which is a coffee shop. I had already had 3/4 of a pot of coffee that morning and I drink quickly when I'm nervous. When she arrived (90 seconds late, let history record) I thought my heart was going to explode. I think because she was so pretty. But also because I was wired like a long-haul truck driver at 3am.
We talked at the coffee shop. We walked across the street to a book store and talked some more. "You must have stuff you need to get to," I suggested, not because I wasn't enjoying myself, but more because my caffeine rush was quickly transforming into a panic attack. "Nope," she said. "You should get your dog and we'll go to the dog park."
So we did that. And then we had dinner. We went to a dog-friendly restaurant so Sam and Zephyr got to come with us. It was fun. My heart didn't explode.
That's probably a good sign.
Best Pretzels | Nothing Else About What Happens Here is Worth Anything Division: Minute Maid Park
Do to a sheer stroke of attendance, I scored a solid number of free tickets to Astros games this year. If you're unfamiliar, the Astros are a local beer league team that someone mistakenly scheduled against actual professional teams this past year.
They have ample seating and their pretzels are adequate.
Best Music | No One Asked My Opinion Division:
Modern Vampires of the City by Vampire Weekend was the best album that came out this year.
"I Appear Missing" by Queens of the Stone Age was the best song.
That's all I have to say about that.
Best Movie | Actually Came Out This Year Division: Frances Ha
Listen, 12 Years a Slave was excellent. And all those other important movies...the ones I didn't see? I'm sure they were awesome, too. But Frances Ha was the best. I can't state that emphatically enough. AND it's on Netflix Streaming RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW. So watch it.
Best Movie | So Much Better Than I Ever Would have Guessed Division: Dredd
Came out last year, but as previously stated, I am the Sarlacc of Media...I digest this shit SLOWLY. And it sounds stupid. But it isn't. Seriously. Dredd (which was called Dredd 3D when it was in theaters) is the most shockingly enjoyable movie I've seen in forever. It's smart, it's straightforward, it doesn't take itself too seriously, and it hums along. I would like another please.
Best Red Light, Green Conductor | I Do What I Want Division: Jack Leso
Red light! Green Light! Red ligh-Green LiRED LGREEEEEN LIGHT!!!
Red light.
Best Book | Self Congratulatory Division: The Egg Catcher
Serious - anyone can publish their own book these days. Eh-nee-one.
That said, mine is the best. So buy it. Read it. And then leave a review on the product page so people won't think it's one of those weird pervert books that just sits there in the corner all by itself, laughing at it's own jokes and trying to decide if it wants grilled cheese or elbow macaroni for dinner.